Now you are a Presence
and sadness macerates us, while your face is absent,
but you comfort us as a celestial being
free from the chains of the trial
and we are lost in a sterile aggression, paying and sucking us in;
in the end we miss wise
words; the eternal is in time, though
not diluted in history; paradigms with ancient roots
happen one after another,
the sky can’t forget it was perfection,

and then dissolution for the sons’ bread.